


Entre-deux

by tonamilahyene



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bad French, M/M, Multilingual Character, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24784000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonamilahyene/pseuds/tonamilahyene
Summary: Crowley talks in french. Aziraphale has a crush on Crowley, and tries to improve his french.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	Entre-deux

"Ne me dérange plus pour ce genre de choses, à l'avenir," said a red-haired man as he hung up the phone, visibly upset.

Seated in his chair, in the local café, Aziraphale wondered what the man was so angry about. He could understand French if he wanted to, but he had a hard time following that man's conversation. Not that it was any of his business, but it made him nostalgic, because he used to have a weird obsession with that culture, back when in his 20s. He would write essays on French literature and spend his afternoons reading French poetry.

That memory was quickly interrupted by the loud entrance of his friend.

"Surprisingly enough, you're almost on time!'' said Aziraphale, watching his wrist watch, "10 minutes late, that's a record for you, Jackie''.

They’d been friends for 6 years already. Since Jackie entered the bookshop, on a rainy morning. Aziraphale let them stay inside until the rain stopped, and that’s how they first met.

"Great to see you too, dear..." They sat down, already annoyed at Aziraphale's remark, "Did you order anything yet? Drinks, maybe?"

Lost in his thoughts, the angel wasn't really paying attention. He was busy trying to hear what was going on at the table near the back door.

"Do you know him?", asked Jackie, growing more impatient by the minute. "If not, please stop staring... that's creepy."

Aziraphale came back to his senses and blushed slightly. "Errr, no, I... I got distracted. Sorry, what were you saying? Drinks, right? I'd like a lemonade, please."

As Jackie called the waitress and ordered two lemonades, a tall red-haired woman entered the café. She quickly looked around, and her face brightened up when she found who she was looking for. She walked towards the table, near the back door, when he got up from his chair in a smooth - and sinful - way, to hug her.

Aziraphale tried his best to keep his focus on his friend, but he was obviously not listening.

"...so I called her and asked her if... Aziraphale? Are you serious? I might as well leave you alone with your new lover. I mean, stranger!" Jackie said, vexed. "You know what? That's it. I'm leaving."

"What? No, wait! I'm sorry, I just... I'm easily distracted, these times. Maybe we can go to my place so that I can listen to you without being disturbed?" offered Aziraphale. But Jackie wasn't in the mood anymore, and decided to leave it at that. They paid for their lemonade and left the café without looking back at Aziraphale.

Ashamed of his behaviour, Aziraphale stayed in his seat and finished his lemonade. He decided not to leave just yet, and ordered another drink. A glass of wine, this time. Red wine.

As he was trying to find a way to make it up to Jackie, he looked back at the reason behind his friend's departure. They were laughing a lot, probably quite drunk already, but nothing annoyingly loud. It felt as if nothing could be annoying about them, ever. Especially about _him_ , actually.

"...tu as réussi à lui faire croire ça?" he said, trying to catch his breath between his laughs, "Et comment il a réagit?"

"Il a cru que j'étais intéressée! Si seulement il savait..." she answered, equally drunk.

Suddenly, the man got up again, to go to the bathroom this time. Aziraphale didn't even try to be discreet, and clearly _stared_. The way he walked was scandalous, but in a wonderful way. His tight black jeans made the whole show even more obscene. He crossed the room with his hands in his jeans' pockets, making his way between the tables like a snake. At last, he entered the bathroom.

Rightfully flustered, Aziraphale reminded himself to breathe again. Still in a state of strange euphoria, he didn't think twice before he got up and walked to the table. The one near the back door.

At this point, Aziraphale was sitting down in the chair that used to be taken by _him_. He surprised himself… he’s never been known for having any courage. He didn't have much time to talk before the man came back, so he tried to be as concise as he possibly could.

"Hello, err... bonjour. Je... je suis Aziraphale. Je... err... je vois votre... ami..." he tried, hoping that she would understand whatever he was trying to say, "voici mon...phone, err, sorry. numéro."

The woman - who looked even better up close - smiled and answered, with a kind tone, "I can talk English, dear. _He_ prefers to talk inFrench, so we do." Aziraphale sighed in relief.

"Oh, ah ah, I was beginning to feel a bit out of words... err... so, yes, well... I'm here to give you my..."

The bathroom door eventually opened, and _he_ was back in the main room. He raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale, wondering what happened while he was gone. Walking ever so sinfully towards what used to be his seat, he asked "Bonjour?"

Aziraphale jumped and looked at the man who was now standing behind him. At first, his gaze fell on the man's tight black jacket… _Might as well be naked_ , he thought. He rapidly chased that image from his mind and looked up. As their eyes met, he made the mistake of attempting to speak.

"Ahem, b- bonjour. Je suis... désolé..." Luckily for him, the woman spoke.

"Crowley, chéri, c'est..." she looked at Aziraphale, who at that moment chose to give them his name, "il s'est joint à moi mais n'a pas encore eu le temps de me dire pourquoi." she explained, as the man sat down in a third chair he borrowed from the nearest table. Looking at Aziraphale, she added "Allez-y, on vous écoute."

Aziraphale was completely lost, despite trying his best to understand the main idea. Well, not completely lost, since he caught the man's name: Crowley. When he noticed that they were both waiting for him to speak, he opened his mouth.

"Alors, hum... je suis ici, pour avoir... err... non, pour donner. oui, pour donner... le numéro."

Trying to give your phone number to someone you do not know, in front of a third person, in another language, obviously wasn't a piece of cake. He somehow made sense, because Crowley answered, with a grin, "Oh, il t'aime bien, Suzanne."

"Non, je crois que c'est toi qu'il aime bien", she answered with a laugh. They both looked at Aziraphale, waiting for him to explain his intentions.

"Je t'ai regardé, hum, Crowley. Et, err, i like... je... j'aime bien. J'ai un... phone. Tu veux?" It was starting to get a bit awkward, and he felt like he was going to explode. He was probably blushing heavily, and his stutter was becoming worse by the second.

Crowley, on the other hand, was comfortably seated in his chair, a playful grin on his lips. He seemed to enjoy seeing Aziraphale struggle.

Suzanne decided to let them talk to each other, one on one, and went to the bar to order something else.  
"Pourquoi faire?" answered Crowley, nonchalantly, "T'es gay?"

"Ahem, sorry... pardon. Je veux pas être ... weird. J'ai... err... j'ai pensé que tu étais..." said Aziraphale while looking at his hands, very ashamed for thinking that Crowley would ever be interested in a man. Especially interested in him. "Pardon, err... c'était un...grande mistake..."

He got up clumsily, with an awkward laugh. On his way to the bar, he walked past Suzanne.

"Did he give you his number, then?" she asked, with what seemed to be hope.

"No. I... made a mistake, sorry. Bye."

He paid, and left the café.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

_I'm the invisible man! I'm the invisible man! Incredible how you can see right through me!_

Crowley was walking rapidly, listening to one of his favourite Queen songs. Obviously. Nothing mattered around him, because he had a goal. He was heading right to the bookshop. He knew Aziraphale worked there, because he had friends. Well, not friends, but he knows people. Not nice people, but they did their job when asked - ordered - to. I mean, Aziraphale was easily recognisable. Dyed blonde hair, clear eyes, all dressed in white and cream colours, wearing a bow tie, and a funny but kind look on his face at all times. When Crowley learned that he owned a bookshop, he wasn't remotely surprised.

He waited in his Bentley for half an hour, before he could finally sneak in. Aziraphale had left the main room and went to what seemed to be the backroom. Crowley got out of his car and entered the bookshop as fast and as silently as he could. He quickly turned himself into a snake, and hid behind a pile of books, near a corner. As he calmed down and examined his surroundings - he could not see much, since he was hidden in a corner -, he knew right away that he was at the right address. The smell of old books and wine that floated in the air seemed strangely familiar.

Less than an hour of waiting was enough. Aziraphale eventually left the bookshop, leaving Crowley alone inside. The latter tried to be as quick as he could. After all, he just had to write a note with his number on it and carefully place it into the first book he found on Aziraphale's desk. That way, he was sure that he would find it. Or at least, he hoped that he would find it.

He turned back into his human shape, and walked towards the desk. His nonchalance had left room for excitement. He wrote the note with his number and put it in a book he found on the countertop. Now, everything he wanted to do was wait here until Aziraphale came back. _But I can’t, can I? Nah, it’s too creepy… he thought, But I can stay for a bit, in case I never get to see this place again._

To give you a bit of context, Crowley hadn't been able to forget Aziraphale's red cheeks and his certainly scrumptious lips. He'd been a smartass, trying to play rough and cool, and it spoiled everything. Like it always does. He acts like a vile snake, and then he crawls back to the person because he's so desperate to be loved.

As he wandered through the bookshop, he realised that there was a backroom. He thought about exploring it, but rapidly changed his mind. _I better not be too nosy. I’m already snooping..._

He sat down in a chair, took a book that he found on a shelf near Aziraphale's desk, and started reading. "Ugh, boring." He replaced the book on the shelf, and examined what was on that desk. Lost in the middle of books and pens, he found a few drawings. He went through them. They seemed to be portraits of random people met on the streets, or near a lake. And there he was. Himself. Crowley. His long red hair put up in a half ponytail. His sunglasses, that hid his eyes, so that nobody can see past this lame image that he created. He almost doesn't recognise himself. He made him look slightly taller, and his hips seemed more... accentuated. "C'est ridicule. Je ne ressemble pas à ça!" he protested.

"What on earth are you doing here?!" shouted Aziraphale from behind him.

Crowley let go of the drawing, looking uneasy. "Je... Err...I wanted to see you" He was ashamed because he put his guard down for a moment, and now he's stuck in a very awkward position. "Ahem, I want to... help you with French!" he lied, hoping it would work.

Aziraphale replied "So you came looking for me... at 1 in the morning?", not believing any of this bullshit.

"Err... yes. I- I left a thing. A note... in a book. On your desk." Crowley said, pointing at the desk with his finger, to support his point.

Aziraphale went to his desk and opened the first book he could reach. He found the note right away, and smiled shyly. He might have blushed, even. Looking back at Crowley, he saw the man sitting on the couch, with one leg on the armrest, looking like an absolute snack. He was slowly turning into his authentic self again. The way-too-comfortable one. Aziraphale liked it as much as he hated it. No, it wasn't hate. It was envy. He wanted to see that everyday.

"Qu'est-ce que tu as?" asked Crowley, failing to hide his concern, "Did you find it?"

"Oui. Je... voulais donner mon... phone... la dernière fois. Mais tu... I mean, you looked like you weren't... interested." he admitted, looking at his nervous hands movements.

"I was... stupid. Pardon, Aziraphale."

That went right to Aziraphale's heart. Hearing his name in Crowley's mouth was an exquisite sound. He wanted to kiss him right then and there, but he was too shy to ask. So he just stared, trying to figure out what to do. Crowley was the one to break the ice, with a shy "Intéressé?"

"Oh, oui." quickly replied Aziraphale, without thinking. After a few seconds, he added "Wait... interested about what?"

"French lessons."

They didn't have to pretend they didn't want this. They both did. So they went with it. And it wasn't as if they were confessing to liking each other. They just had an excuse to actually spend some time with each other.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

_Watch out! The world's behind you. There's always someone around you who will call..._

Crowley woke up to The Velvet Underground playing on his radio. What a delightful coincidence.

He stretched, and got out of bed. He was wearing his usual pyjamas, which means that he was only wearing a pair of underwear. He walked slowly to the kitchen, still sleepy, when he heard his phone ring. He didn't bother to pick it up, and just waited for the person to leave him a message.

"Err... hi!" he heard, knowing who it was right away. He kept on listening with a smile on his face, "Je appelle... to know... maybe, pour un rendez-vous. Tu sais... dans un restaurant... maybe...Ugh, pardon pour le français-" That's when Crowley picked up the phone, and said "Bonjour! Ce soir, 20h. Your bookshop. Oui?"

Disturbed at the sudden offer, Aziraphale stuttered "Oh, ahem, yes. I mean, oui ! Tu as une... car?"

"Voiture is french for car. And yep, I do have a car. A beautiful car, actually. Do you think you'll be alright, having to talk French for the whole evening?" he winked, but felt stupid when he realised that Aziraphale couldn't see him through the phone. Luckily, he couldn't see his cheeks blush either.

"Eh eh... Oui, oui. Je crois. Tu- tu vas m'aider, oui ?" asked Aziraphale, unsure.

"On verra" replied Crowley with a playful laugh, before he hung up the phone.

*

The sound of tires on the street outside woke Aziraphale up. He wiped the dribble of saliva from his cheek and tried to assess the situation.

Crowley. Crowley! It was probably him outside, waiting to take him to the restaurant.

"Fuck!" he muttered to himself, while trying to make himself look decent again.

He didn't have much time to do so, because Crowley was already entering the bookshop.

"Oh, quelle belle surprise!" he exclaimed with a cheeky grin, "Je savais pas qu'on brûlait les étapes". He laughed, staring at Aziraphale with insistence.

"Oop-" he jumped at the sudden presence, "err.... Je suis désolé! Let me..." he was at a loss for words, and blushed heavily.

On the other side of the room, Crowley was taken aback by the sight of Aziraphale’s opened button-up shirt. He licked his lips, thankful to have his sunglasses on. It wouldn’t do him any good for Aziraphale to see how much he liked that sight now, did he?

As he started walking seductively towards Aziraphale, he asked "Tu fais souvent ça?", knowing perfectly well that he would be confused.

"Quoi?" Aziraphale looked at Crowley, embarrassed.

Crowley couldn't help but look at Aziraphale's chest. Three buttons were left undone, and he hoped it would have been four. Or five.

"Let strangers look at your _scintillatingly bare chest._ "

Wide-eyed, Aziraphale tried his best to formulate a correct answer. He failed, "Ahem... Pardon..." He reached for the third button, when Crowley stopped him by putting his hand on Aziraphale's.

"Tu es magnifique" he declared, looking right into Aziraphale's eyes. "Je..." This sentence was never finished, but neither of them really cared. Their hands started moving together until they were intertwined.

After a long silence, Crowley asked, "Tu veux bien qu'on reste ici ce soir?"

"Mais.... pourquoi?" Aziraphale looked up to see that Crowley was even closer than before. "What are you doing?"

"En français, Aziraphale" he teased, trying not to smile, but still getting closer.

Soon enough, their mouths were inches apart, and without a word, Crowley let his other hand brush against Aziraphale's hip. That alone was enough to awake a multitude of feelings inside them both, but they refrained them. For now.

Stepping back, like he had a sudden realisation, Aziraphale asked "What about... tu m'aides avec mon français?" He looked at his hands, avoiding that insistent gaze.

"Do you understand me if I say... Ton regard me trouble." asked Crowley, almost whispering, while he moved towards Aziraphale.

"Ahem... je crois, oui..." said he, letting him close the gap between them.

"What about... L'envie de t'embrasser me démange." he added, looking hungrily at Aziraphale's lips.

"Oui..."

Flustered, Aziraphale allowed himself to enjoy the company of this gorgeous man. His eyes started wondering what was hiding underneath that black shirt. Moving his hands to reach his goal, he looked up and saw Crowley's grin, once again. Oh, he loved that grin already.

"Can I- I mean... Je peux... err... t'embrasser?" tried Aziraphale, hoping this bit of courage would pay back.

"Je t'en supplie," answered Crowley, determined to not let this moment pass him by.

Their lips met softly at first, but as they grew more and more attached to the feeling, the kiss got deeper. Aziraphale's warm hands started wandering through Crowley's silky red hair.

"Mh, on devrait..." Crowley tried to speak in-between kisses, "s'assœir"

Getting more comfortable was a good idea, Aziraphale thought, as it would allow them to make out properly. He stepped back - not without difficulty - and led the way through the bookshop, to the backroom. Once they got there, he sat on the sofa and invited Crowley on his lap with a tap of the hand. Shy but eagerly consenting, Crowley sat on Aziraphale's lap. Right away, to leave no space for any doubt to build up, he nuzzled in his arms, and breathed deeply.

"Ton odeur est délicieuse" whispered Crowley, drunk on the smell of his newfound passion. Aziraphale leaned back a bit more; enough to give Crowley the space he needed to plant tender kisses on his neck.

"Je vais- mmh… learn french very quickly now" joked Aziraphale, trying his best to stay focused.

Crowley answered with a smile, knowing that Aziraphale could feel it on his neck. These French lessons were going to be... exciting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to MrsCaulfield, who was my beta for this fic !


End file.
